POSTCARDS FROM GERMANY

Founded in 1956, the Deutsche Oper am Rhein (DOR) is a theater partnership between the cities of Düsseldorf and Duisburg which looks back on a long tradition of artistic collaboration. DOR produces about 280 performances each season, with a combination of opera, dance, and concerts. Neither theater is grand or spectacular. Each one seats about 1,300. Audiences are on time and know how to be quiet. And you see a mix of ages, with a fair number of college-age students and families with teenagers. Everyone knows how to behave, not like in the states with latecomers crawling over you, squealing cellphones, and incessant yacking (and the occasional sing along of “Libiamo” or “Amani, Alfredo”). It’s about 20 minutes by train between the two cities. It’s also handy that your opera ticket includes roundtrip train, subway, or bus fare. I planned for two performances in Düsseldorf, two in Duisburg, and one in Essen (more on that one later).

APRIL 2 – TURANDOT

Puccini’s Turandot is everywhere whether singers are equal to the roles or not. Duisburg’s production consisted of a vast cyclorama with cutout shapes of buildings and a scrim with projected drone footage of vast modern cities. Occasionally a white screen would descend and we’d watch swirling inkblots. 

The action could be termed “traditional” but with the addition of a young women wearing a white negligee wandering forlornly amongst the chorus; she’d sometimes fall and roll on the floor or run back and forth across the stage. After Calaf answered the third riddle, Turandot’s handmaidens immediately cut the cape and train off her costume which left the impression of an insect without a shell. Nice touch. We discovered after Liu’s death that the woman in the negligee was Liu’s ghost, but she promptly flitted away. Costumes were standard issue faux Asian but without extreme gaudiness. Emperor Altoum was strangely dressed as Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp with bowler hat and cane. 

Antonio Fogliani conducted an energetic rendition with a rich orchestral sound highlighting the woodwinds in several spots. Nothing dragged and had a good sense of forward motion. This was really refreshing after the plodding, colorless Turandot still in my ears after a visit to Miami in March.

Ukrainian soprano Oksana Kramereva sang the title role with impressive volume, but a distressing sense of wet cotton balls stuck in her throat. This odd, thick sound was especially noticeable in the passaggio but mostly vanished at very top and very bottom of the voice. She was as expressive as the role allows, biting into the words to threaten Kalaf (Andrea Shin). Shin’s tenor was bright and clear with an easy top. The sound was pleasant but a size too small for the role and was often lost in the climaxes. He supplied one facial expression and limited movement throughout the evening. He also had a habit of yelling phrase endings during the riddle scene. Perhaps a less dramatic role would bring out better qualities.

Romanian soprano Luiza Fatyol supplied a hard, harsh Liu without the soft, floating warmth the role requires. She was tall, hearty, and again, a singer of limited physical or facial expression. Her death scene was free of pathos. Another Romanian, Beniamin Pop, voiced Timur with an attractive, well projected bass. It made one wish the part were larger. Jake Muffett, Cornel Frey, and Henry Ross blended well as the P-P-P trio. They behaved with more ominous weight and dignity than the usual comedic antics one sees. That was refreshing.

APRIL 3 – PARSIFAL

My visit to Germany occurred during Easter weekend as Wagner’s Parsifal made its annual appearance in most European theaters. The Düsseldorf performance began at 4:00 p.m. and ended a little after 10:00 p.m. A Parsifal audience in Germany rarely moves or coughs and sits hypnotized in rapturous silence. There are no annoying cellphone sounds and it’s recommended all cough drops are unwrapped before the conductor enters. Don’t leave the auditorium and expect to come back in after the music starts. It’s noteworthy this performance actually occurred on Good Friday, which features prominently in Act 3. 

Parsifal can be a magical and touching experience when all the elements come together. Central to this, at least to me, is the German term “nicht schleppend” (“don’t drag”) as it applies to the conductor’s overall plan for the piece. A brisk and pointed interpretation always works better than a thick, slow-motion morass. Compare the Pierre Boulez version (DG 1970, three CDs, with James King) to the James Levine version (DG 1994, four CDS, with the ubiquitous Domingo). Boulez moves with purpose, conviction, and polished stainless steel precision. Levine robs the music of drama by dragging like a funeral cortege covered in a wet blanket.

Conductor Christoph Gedschold only languished in sections of Act 1, particularly when Gurnemanz tends to drone on. Acts 2 and 3 moved well. The overall sound was dark with strong accents on the brass. The men’s chorus suffered ragged, unbalanced moments throughout. There was lovely, well blended sound from the offstage chorus.

The production design helped no one. We got a white walled box with a sloping platform and a small, elevated area at the back center. There was nothing to concentrate on visually and the set remained the same for all three acts. Why not just give the piece in concert form? The men’s costumes were similarly dull. Kundry sported a black pantsuit, then changed into a red pantsuit for act 2. She spent act 3 in a beige raincoat, painting quotes (“Durch Mitleid wissen” and “Der reine Tor”) on the wall.

Sarah Ferede was a remarkable Kundry. She is a fearless singer with a wide vocal range and commanded attention whenever she appeared. She delivered electric moments in act 2. Her nemesis Klingsor only appears in act 2, but Joachim Goltz matched Ferede and was vividly creepy while singing with a firm, brightly colored baritone. Their scene crackled with intensity. Eduardo Aladren sang the title role with warm Italianate tone and more portamenti than one hears in this music. He seemed lost dramatically, however, as if the director gave him nothing to do other than stand still or sit. He was inexplicably done up in clown makeup when he returned, older and wiser, in act 3. The director saddled Hans-Peter König’s Gurnemanz with two forearm crutches and slumped posture to convey old age. It limited his movement. He has a big sturdy voice to match his big burly physique. He was expressive with the text but ran out of steam in the last act. Bogdan Baciu’s Amfortas was hampered with being placed in a small niche far upstage in act 1. The director permitted him to come downstage center in act 3, and, like Aladren, he treated the music stylishly with a warm, Italianate tone instead of shouting. He worked himself into quite a frenzy before Parsifal confronted him with the spear. The Blumenmädchen were dressed as 1950s housewives, and all sang beautifully.

The musical values of the performance remained in my mind far longer than the antiseptic and frankly dull production.

APRIL 4 – DER FREISCHÜTZ

The city of Essen is an easy 15-minute train ride from Duisburg. The relatively new opera house (the Aalto-Theater) was designed by Finnish architect Alvar Aalto and opened in 1988. The auditorium’s design is asymmetrical with sloping orchestra seats and two shallow balconies. Instead of the usual red and gold color scheme, the Aalto Theater is done in white and indigo blue. It’s an exceptionally comfortable theater and one of my favorites in Germany.

Weber’s Der Freischütz is rarely seen on American stages. The last Met performances were in 1971. The small Queen City Opera Company in Cincinnati staged a modern, updated version in 2019, which focused on America’s obsession with firearms. The American Symphony Orchestra just presented a concert version in April this year. The opera is loaded with great music and frequently revived in Europe, particularly in Germany. Perhaps the lengthy spoken dialogue hampers performances in the states. Spoken dialogue, however, never prevents frequent performances of Die Zauberflöte in English speaking countries.

I try not to use the term “Eurotrash.” No other description comes to mind regarding Tatjana Gürbaca’s production. She sets it in a community of religious fanatics who are quick to violence. The only colors on stage are black, gray, and dark green. The stage is lined with small black silhouettes of houses with a lake (with real water) in the center. The chorus is the front-and-center protagonist throughout the action. They’re dressed in rags or pilgrim garments in 1950s American textbook illustrations. Max wears a light-colored tweed suit marking him as an outsider, provoking frequent beatings for being “different.” Chorus members used chalk to draw crosses on the black houses. Sometimes they stop praying and waving crosses and mimic slow-motion sex orgies. Agathe and Ännchen began their charming duet by dumping a framed portrait of Adolf Hitler in the lake. The dramatic scene in the Wolf’s Glen, where Max and Kaspar cast the magic bullets, featured chorus members acting out repeated violent acts. There’s a firing squad, a suicide, men gang raping another man, a man in a shiny wet suit emerging and reemerging from the lake, and men kidnapping Agathe for nefarious purposes. These vignettes were enacted repeatedly until the curtain thankfully came down. Act 2 was less disturbing, but Agathe tried to drown herself in the lake, and chorus members tried to force-feed barbequed ribs to Ottokar. A scrim with dark, squiggly projections descended for the final scene. It completely obscured any action on stage (a blessing in disguise) so we could enjoy the music without more wacky distractions. The baffling final image on the scrim showed train tracks leading into Auschwitz.

The “Eurotrash” antics repeatedly took our attention away from the music. Andrea Sangueneti led a heavy, spacious, rich orchestral reading that could have benefitted from more energetic tempi. A solitary voice yelled “boo” after the overture. It’s not entirely fair to talk about the soloists because they were lost in the strange atmosphere churning around them. Baritone Heiko Trinsinger was loud and abrasive as Kaspar, resorting to yelling portions of his music. Irina Simmes was a cool, poised Agathe with smooth, bright tone. Natalie Labourdette played Agathe’s perky sidekick Ännchen in the manner of Mozart’s Despina. Her sound was glassy and piercing. Tenor Alejandro del Angel (Max) maintained graceful, warm tenor sound regardless of who was slapping or kicking him. Agathe’s father Kuno (Karel Martin Ludvik) offered a pleasant baritone and authoritative manner, and another pleasant baritone, Tobias Greenhalgh, did what he could with Ottokar between the silly force-feeding sessions. Baurzhan Anderzhanov’s rich bass was luxury casting in the cameo role of the Hermit. 

APRIL 5 – DIE WALKÜRE

Back to Duisburg on Sunday, April 5 for Wagner’s Die Walküre, starting at 5:00 p.m. and ending at 10:00 p.m. The reverently quiet audience was on time and silent throughout. Today’s conductor, Vitali Alekseenok, is only 35 years old. He became chief conductor of the Deutsche Oper am Rhein in 2024. An interesting item on his resume is acting as artistic director of the Ukrainian Kharkiv Music Festival, which organizes concerts in bomb shelters, subways, and hospitals during the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian war. Since 2022 he’s been principal guest conductor at Teatro Massimo Bellini in Catania, Sicily.

The entire opera takes place in Hunding’s house. The kitchen is in disrepair, with flickering neon lights and flames leaping out of a dilapidated stove. On the far left is a large dining room table with high-back chairs and an ornate red sofa. The ash tree is further back. Siegmund enters and the action plays out like any traditional performance of Walküre. The setting is the same for act 2. Siegmund and Mr. and Mrs. Hunding are enjoying cocktails with Wotan and Brünnhilde; Fricka enters and executes her scene like a group counseling session. Brünnhilde wears a red ballgown, Fricka a sparkling black ballgown. Afterwards the action again proceeds in a traditional fashion. The Todesverkündung was beautifully played. It’s probably my favorite scene in the opera. Brünnhilde was swathed in black mourning veils (Victorian “widow’s weeds”) over her red gown. She slowly removed the veils and draped them on Siegmund. He naturally yanked them off when he decided not to cooperate.

A helicopter crashes through the roof at the beginning of act 3. The Valkyries, all in red ballgowns, help the (dead) men out of the crash site. The dining room table is lined with candelabra, champagne, and hors d’oeuvres to welcome them. Hunding’s dead body is on the sofa. As usual, Sieglinde is sent on her way with the broken sword, Wotan is furious, and Brünnhilde is contrite. The whole house goes up in flames at the end, presumably from the pesky flaming stove in the kitchen.

Maestro Alekseenok and the orchestra provided a propulsive albeit very loud reading of the score. The brass occasionally overpowered everything. He kept the music flowing and didn’t let the dead spot in act 2 – Wotan’s tedious monologue – drag unnecessarily. (Tedious to me, perhaps not to you.)

There was much to enjoy vocally. I was most impressed by British soprano Allison Oakes as Brünnhilde. Her roles throughout Europe include Isolde, Senta, Salome, Marietta (Die Tote Stadt), and Chrysothemis, the role of her Met debut in 2018. Oakes reminded me of certain sopranos in the 1970s and 80s, such as Roberta Knie, Ruth Falcon, and Johanna Meier. Solid, competent, well prepared, tonally even from top to bottom – but lacking the last inch of “oomph” that makes a real star. (Perhaps that’s an exposure or publicity issue, or a “glamour” issue. None of those things, however, guarantee good singing.) Oakes was smooth, never forced, gave weight to the text, and was as fresh at the end as she was at the beginning. I look forward to hearing her again. The Siegmund, Australian Samuel Sakker, is a big burly bear with a big, bronzed voice grounded with attractive baritonal underpinnings. The music posed no troubles for him. Next to little Klaus Florian Vogt in Wagner, Sakker sounded like the return of Ramon Vinay. Like Oakes, I’d be glad to encounter him in the theater again.

Sarah Ferede’s Sieglinde was not as successful as her Kundry two days ago. Her stage persona inhabits flamboyant or in extremis characters more effectively than a gentle, lyrical one like Sieglinde. She was vocally solid but the character wasn’t a good fit. Wotan was British baritone James Rutherford. Like Sakker, he’s big and imposing on stage. He has a decade of Wagner credentials in Berlin, Chicago, and London. There was absolutely nothing to fault vocally; it’s a big, burnished sound with plenty of stamina. It was all a bit too polite, even staid, with little expression. Thorsten Grümbel’s sepulchral bass menaced effectively as Hunding. Anna Harvey’s Fricka sounded more soprano than mezzo. She knew how to take charge in her scene. The Valkyries sang with precision and covered well when one of them accidentally knocked over glassware and champagne bottles on the hors d’oeuvres table. 

A most enjoyable evening, overall.

APRIL 6 – IL TRITTICO

I reached my final night in Germany with Puccini’s wonderful Il Trittico in Düsseldorf. 

Side note – readers will probably not agree with my opinion of the Puccini repertoire. I would shelve Butterfly, Boheme, and Turandot for three or four years. Maybe shelve Tosca, too. I realize those operas guarantee ticket sales. Instead, I’d schedule La Fanciulla del West (marvelous), La Rondine, Le Villi, and even Edgar. Bring the old chestnuts back after a good break, and maybe they’ll seem less hackneyed. Il Trittico belongs in the latter group. It deserves more outings than it gets.

Düsseldorf’s production reverses the order of the three operas. Gianni Schicchi plays first, Suor Angelica remains in the middle, and Il Tabarro is last. There’s one unit set that adapts well to each of the three chapters. The action proceeds in a customary fashion, except for a startling plot twist in the last minutes of Suor Angelica. Stefano Ranzani conducted with sensible tempi, avoided extremes, and never overpowered the singers. I don’t mean it negatively to describe it as moderate and sensible.

GIANNI SCHICCHI

This Gianni Schicchi would have played as well in 1950 as in 2026. It simply told the story as it’s written. No untoward directorial changes, no flashing video screens, no dancers mirroring the singers, etc.  It was refreshing. Slapstick was kept to a minimum. 

Each character was well sung, and everyone worked together as a true ensemble. A standout was Riccardo Romeo’s sweet, playful Rinuccio. Uzbekistani baritone Alexey Zelenkov’s brought a dark, sizable baritone to the title role. He wasn’t humorous – you’d be in trouble if you crossed him. Lavinia Dames’ light, bright “O mio babbino” was pleasant and well applauded.

SUOR ANGELICA

Suor Angelica moved us into a darker realm. Minor changes to the unit set created a sterile, cold space with one window, a bed, and a door. Some potted plants downstage left represented Angelica’s garden. The sisters nervously went about their routines with heads bowed. Physical punishment seemed imminent. Zia Principessa entered in a sedan chair and barely went near Angelica during their dialogue. She registered no reaction when Angelica collapsed. After “Senza mama” a few nuns returned and gave Angelica a goblet, which I assumed contained poison. She drank and went to bed. The magical offstage chorus started, Angelica went into labor (while singing “O Madonna, salvami”), nuns surrounded the bed, and Zia Principessa returned to supervise. Angelica’s child is stillborn. Zia Principessa promptly dumped the remains in a bucket. Angelica is left alone amongst bloody bedsheets. Blackout, the end. I was left with puzzling questions. Did Angelica get pregnant while at the convent? Or was this a reenactment of the birth before she entered the convent? If that child was stillborn, was she fantasizing about having a son? Did the director create a harsh distraction to avoid staging the miraculous heavenly ending as written? Hmm…puzzling.

Sylvia Hamvasi’s Angelica was small, nervous, and submissive. Her voice encompassed the role’s range but with hard, wiry tone. The extraordinary word painting one hears from Scotto or Soviero was missing. Zia Principessa’s severity was well voiced by Ramona Zaharia. She used a lot of chest and pointed the text effectively. The small supporting roles were competent but no one stood out as exceptional. 

IL TABARRO

My favorite of the three, Il Tabarro, came last. The unit set became a ship’s cargo hold. The door on the left became an exit to a gangplank. A noisy trapdoor led to a lower level. The same bed (without the bloody sheets) is on the right. The staging was straightforward without eccentric touches. 

Alexey Zelekov, Schicchi earlier in the evening, was outstanding as Michele. He has a big, ripe, darkly colored baritone and is a powerful actor. He was bursting with anger under the surface. He strangled Luigi on Angelica’s (and Buoso Donati’s) bed. His cry of “Ancora” was chilling. Luigi was Eduardo Aladren, the Parsifal from three nights earlier. He was much more at home in Puccini than Wagner, and gave a warmly sung, convincing portrayal. Irish soprano Celine Byrne portrayed Giorgetta as bored, cranky, and cheap. Her soprano had a papery, dry quality that matched her characterization, and it soared easily to the climaxes. I always look forward to Giorgetta’s scream when Michele reveals Luigi’s dead body. This time Giorgetta just whimpered slightly and fainted. Michele gave the impression he would gladly dump their bodies in the Seine and leave town.

(My next opera postcards will come to you from Washington D.C. and Toronto.)

-HWCCI